


Elizabeth

by Baylor



Series: Birthright [26]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Gen, Really You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baylor/pseuds/Baylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Burke babysits for Zeke Tyler while his family struggles with tragedy. Their bond doesn't hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elizabeth

Elizabeth Burke had always been more comfortable with children than with her peers, so going into teaching seemed the best course of action. Elizabeth determined her path early on in high school, and eagerly anticipated a day when her primary interactions would be with admiring young pupils, and not with her dismissive and superior classmates.

It wasn’t that the other students at Farhat Academy didn’t like Elizabeth so much as that no one ever seemed to take notice of her. They were the brightest and the best, after all, and sometimes it almost hurt Elizabeth’s eyes to look at all of them. They had young, wealthy parents who drove fashionable cars, and they took fabulous, expensive vacations overseas. Their mothers were more likely to be mistaken for their sisters, and the Saturday night party migrated weekly to a new mansion whose adult inhabitants were away on business or pleasure. 

Elizabeth’s parents didn’t like to travel, especially not since her father had retired. They had a Mercedes, but from 1982, and her mother was more likely to be mistaken for her grandmother. Her parents had retired every evening at 10 p.m. as far back as Elizabeth could recollect, and that included Saturday nights. 

Sometimes, on Saturdays when she would be babysitting the Tyler boy down the street, Elizabeth would look wistfully at Mr. and Mrs. Tyler, vibrant and trendy in their dinner clothes, and then perhaps a little jealously at Amy, pretty and stylish in her designer jeans, jangling the keys to her convertible as she headed out to pick up her girlfriends. Elizabeth and Amy had been in the same class since the seventh grade, and Amy always ran down to the basement to say good-bye to Zeke, and hello to Elizabeth. Somehow, her sincere cheerfulness to Elizabeth stung more than scorn would have.

But once everyone else was gone, Elizabeth knew she was happier spending the evening with Zeke. He was a strange little kid, precocious and intelligent, with a mischievous smile that made it all too easy to forgive his smart-alec nature. Zeke always had some science project going on in the basement, an ant colony or a bottle launcher or something mysterious in his junior chemistry set. Zeke was in the sixth grade, just the age of child that Elizabeth wanted to teach someday.

Amy Tyler was Homecoming Queen that year, and she looked beautiful in her flouncy pink dress, her dark hair piled elegantly atop her head. Elizabeth saw her at the football game, during the halftime crowning ceremony, as she sat in the stands with her parents and Marcie Preston, another one of the socially forgotten at Farhat Academy. She didn’t go to the dance. She was taller than all the boys, anyway.

_____ 

The news that Amy Tyler had a horrible disease began sweeping the school in January, after Amy had been out sick for an entire week. Elizabeth heard in physics that it was a brain tumor, in the lunch room that it was yellow fever, and in the girls’ room that it was a virulent form of genital herpes. Elizabeth wanted to volunteer that she had been at the Tylers’ house that weekend, and could vouch for the fact that Amy had a bad case of the flu, but by the time she worked herself up to join in the conversation each time, it had turned to other gossip.

But Amy didn’t come back to school that week, and the Tylers didn’t call for a babysitter that weekend. In homeroom on Monday, Mrs. Kendall closed the door and leaned against the edge of her desk, hands clasped in front of her, the room immediately going quiet at the signs of a grave announcement.

Leukemia, was the pronouncement, advanced and invasive cancer of the blood. Amy was already at the children’s hospital in Springfield, getting the best care money could buy. Her parents were even consulting with a specialist from John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. Mrs. Kendall didn’t want to alarm the students (as if it wasn’t too late for that, with half of the girls already crying) but it seemed that this was a rare and potentially life-threatening form of leukemia, and that it was moving rapidly through Amy’s Homecoming Queen body.

Elizabeth slouched deeper in her seat at the news, gripping the edge of her notebook with cold fingers. She remembered how she’d spent the entire evening two Saturdays ago downstairs with Zeke while Amy watched television in the upstairs living room, and how even after Zeke had gone to bed, she had opened up a book instead of joining Amy on the couch. Her stomach hurt.

Amy Tyler’s illness was the sole topic of student conversation at Farhat Academy for the remainder of the day, duly accompanied by weeping girls, who always seemed to have a wounded-but-strong boy close by to lean against. Even Elizabeth talked about it at lunch with Marcie Preston. 

“Did you know she was sick?” Marcie asked as they poked at their food at a corner table. “I mean, from babysitting her brother?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Just with the flu. I haven’t been there in a while; maybe they didn’t know yet.”

“Wow,” Marcie said, and swirled her plastic spoon in her applesauce. “I wonder if she’ll die.”

Elizabeth shuddered. “Don’t say that,” she reprimanded. “It’s bad luck.”

“Me wondering if she’ll die isn’t bad luck,” Marcie answered. “Getting cancer when you’re 17 – that’s bad luck.”

_____ 

Elizabeth’s parents were discussing the news in the kitchen when she came home from school. “Just awful,” she heard her mother saying. “That beautiful girl. Always so polite and cheery whenever I ran into her.”

“Terrible,” her father answered as Elizabeth stepped into the room. Her mother caught sight of her and set down the bowl she was mixing. 

“Oh, Beth,” she said, “did you hear about Amy Tyler today at school?”

“Yes, Mom,” Elizabeth said, and went to the refrigerator to take out juice. “They told us in homeroom.”

“Our own neighbors,” her mother said, and sighed. “What a thing to have happen. You didn’t know about it, did you?”

“I’m their babysitter, Mom,” Elizabeth said, grabbing a glass. “They don’t exactly confide in me.”

“Well, I’m making this cake for them, and you should come with me when I take it over,” her mother said. “Say hello to little Zeke, if nothing else. Poor boy, it must be hard for him, too.”

“All right,” Elizabeth said. She didn’t really want to see the Tylers, but she wouldn’t mind seeing Zeke, and he probably could use some friendly encouragement. She reached around her mother to grab a cookie out of the jar and her mother made flapping motions with her hands.

“Go change out of your uniform if you’re going to hang around the kitchen,” she ordered. “The dry-cleaning bill is enough as it is.”

“Yes, Mom,” Elizabeth said, and started out of the room.

“Beth,” her mother said, and Elizabeth turned and paused. Her mother reached out to pat her face gently, and smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re home, honey.”

Elizabeth smiled back. “Thanks, Mom,” she said.

The doorbell rang while she was changing her clothes, and when she came down the stairs, she heard her father saying, “So sorry, Mike, just a terrible thing. If there’s anything at all we can do,” just as she spotted Mr. Tyler in the entryway.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly. 

“Hi, Elizabeth,” Mr. Tyler said. A fairly young, handsome man that Marcie said looked like Harrison Ford, today Mr. Tyler looked old and weary. “Thank you, Bob,” he said to Elizabeth’s father. “Actually, that’s why I’m here.”

_____

That was how, in the final semester of her senior year, Elizabeth found herself spending her evenings with an 11-year-old. Mrs. Tyler was in Springfield, staying at a hotel near the hospital. Mr. Tyler was working and splitting his time between Herrington and the hospital, which meant late nights most days. The Tylers’ maid, Vera, left every day at 5:30, and sometimes Mr. Tyler didn’t get home until after 10. 

Vera left them dinner, ready to eat, and told Zeke good-bye every day with loving admonishments to behave for Elizabeth. His homework was long since finished, and so after dinner, Elizabeth found herself playing lab assistant to Zeke’s funny little projects until it was time to put him to bed. The purple liquid did stain their fingers green for a week, and the mold culture did grow out of its dish and onto the windowsill seemingly overnight, but Zeke met his failures with the same enthusiasm as his successes. 

He never talked about Amy. No one younger than 12 was allowed to visit the ward Amy was in, for fear they would spread germs to critically ill patients, and so far as Elizabeth knew, the last time Zeke had seen his sister was the night she’d waken to a nosebleed that had ruined her entire bed and prompted her parents to take her to the emergency room. Mrs. Tyler came home on the weekends to see Zeke and get clean clothes, while Mr. Tyler stayed in her hotel room and visited with Amy, so at least Zeke got to hear from his mother how his sister was doing. And also, she thought, at least he got some attention from a parent for at least one day a week. Mr. Tyler got Zeke up in the morning and dropped him off at school, but usually it was Elizabeth who put him to bed. 

For a while, the Tylers brought home encouraging reports about Amy, and repeatedly expressed their thanks for the community’s support. Neighbors were always dropping off meals, and the school was a clearing house of gifts and balloons and cards. The student council put together a “video greeting card” to send her, and Elizabeth made herself tape a brief message, stammering through a hello and hope to see you soon. She meant to tell Amy that Zeke missed her and was staying out of trouble, but forgot under the pressure of the demanding glass lens.

Winter passed to spring, and Amy’s illness took backseat to prom and graduation plans at school. Elizabeth, though, kept feeding Zeke dinner and putting him to bed. Mr. Tyler, she noticed, had stopped bringing home reports about how well Amy was doing. And one Wednesday night, he didn’t come home.

_____

It was a beautiful funeral. Amy’s senior picture topped the expensive white coffin, and there were too many flowers to fit in the room. Crying teenaged girls clutched at each other, and teenaged boys sniffled, resolutely not letting more than a few tears fall. The school choir sang “Wind Beneath My Wings.”

Elizabeth, seated between her parents and not with the sobbing cluster of her schoolmates, could not look away from Zeke, seated at the front next to his mother, in a little suit so new and crisp it was practically crackling every time he moved. He solemnly observed his shiny shoes throughout the ceremony, never crying or looking up, his mother’s hand clenched in his.

Elizabeth had never seen that vibrant, curious child so still.

At the receiving line, Elizabeth gently hugged each of the Tylers back, accepting their thanks and murmuring her soft words of sorrow. She paused before Zeke, who held out his hand seriously. She took it and shook it gravely.

“Thank you for coming to my house,” he said.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Elizabeth answered, and Zeke nodded, then ducked his head down.

“Bye,” he said awkwardly.

“Bye,” Elizabeth echoed in a whisper, and walked away.

_____

Elizabeth spent prom night at Marcie’s house, eating ice cream and watching movies, and then there were final exams, and then the last day of school, and then graduation, with her parents posing so proudly beside her for photographs, and a party at the house where everyone heard about her plans to major in English at Ohio Wesleyan. Somewhere in all that excitement, her mother mentioned to her that Zeke’s parents had sent him to camp for the summer, and wouldn’t it be good for him to have fun with other children his own age and get his mind off their terrible loss?

College was more like high school than Elizabeth would have liked, but, still, being smart was valued here, and she was nothing if not smart. Somewhere along the line, she decided to focus on high school, not middle school, education. She liked the idea of working with young people, about to launch into adulthood and the world.

Her mother told her that Zeke’s parents had sent him to boarding school. Elizabeth thought seventh grade was awfully young for that, but maybe he liked it there. Maybe he had free rein in the science lab and a captive audience of other 12-year-old boys.

_____

Her parents were thrilled when Elizabeth decided to take the job at Herrington High. It seemed like a good idea to her. She could live at home for a bit, work on paying back student loans, get her feet under her. Besides, she’d always like Herrington, though she’d never set foot in the public high school until her new teacher orientation.

She got her class lists that day, and was astounded to find the name “Zeke Tyler” in her Advanced Lit class.

“Oh, I think he’s had some problems,” her mother said vaguely when she told her. “You know how it can be with the smart ones sometimes.”

“He should have graduated by now,” Elizabeth said, frowning.

Her mother patted her shoulder. “His parents took him out of boarding school – maybe his credits didn’t transfer or something. Anyway, I was glad to see him at home – the boy needs some parental attention, no doubt,” she said.

Elizabeth hummed in reply. “At least I know I have a smart kid in one class,” she said. “And a familiar face.” She was more nervous about her first day of solo teaching that she was willing to admit. The thought of Zeke in her classroom, helping the discussion along with his quick brain and wit, shored up her courage.

_____

He was tall now, but the mischievous little boy face was the same. She wasn’t sure he knew her, though, as he didn’t stop when she’d greeted him with a happy, “Zeke, so glad you’re in my class!” Instead, he’d ambled to a desk and slouched himself into it, not glancing up.

Elizabeth bravely launched into her introduction, then started on the summer reading list. Bored, the students looked more outside the windows than at her. She’d had the same reaction in her earlier classes – no one liked coming back to school. But she knew if she could start a conversation, get them engaged, things would get rolling.

“What about _Huck Finn_?” she asked. “Did anyone enjoy that? Any thoughts on it?”

A girl in the front row yawned.

“Zeke?” Elizabeth asked. “What did you think?”

A few of the kids exchanged looks when she called on Zeke, but she kept her focus on him, watching his head come up, his long legs stretching even further into the aisle. He looked her right in the eyes, and she saw the recognition there.

“I just wonder which was worse for poor Huck,” Zeke drawled, and Elizabeth felt the zing coming before he delivered it. “Cooped up with those two crazy ladies or on the road those two guys. It’s hard to pick your favorite pedophile, isn’t it?”

The room burst into laughter, and Elizabeth flinched.

“Although maybe he liked it,” Zeke continued. “I dunno, I’m not into that kind of thing. What about you, Miss Burke? You like the gay kiddie porn?”

The room degraded into hoot and catcalls, and Elizabeth felt her face growing red. When she finally found her voice, it was soft and flustered.

“That’s not appropriate, Zeke,” she said.

“No?” Zeke asked, eyes glinting, saucy grin in place. “You let me know what you find appropriate and I’m sure I can dish it up for you.”

The class was lost now, and no amount of demands or cajoles could bring it back under her control, not when her hands and voice were shaking and she couldn’t look Zeke in the eye. She was relieved, oh so relieved, when the bell rang and they filed out.

Zeke waited for the rest of the class before unfolding himself and sauntering past her desk. Elizabeth forced herself to look up, and now she could see that although the face was the same, there was a bitterness to the eyes she’d never known in the little boy.

“See you tomorrow, Miss Burke,” Zeke said, tongue stroking her name like it was a naughty word. “I’ll try to be more appropriate,” and then he winked at her.

Elizabeth spent the next hour trying to regain her composure, but it wasn’t back the next day, or the day after that, or any of the days that followed until suddenly, there weren’t any more days before her.


End file.
